The party needs to show it is hurting – and, while we're at it, how about one massive policy U-turn? BACK him or sack him: the message from Labour's National Policy Forum was like a trailer for the Weakest Link. Talking openly about the "unmitigated disaster" of last Thursday's defeat in Glasgow East, Paul Kenny, general secretary of the GMB union, challenged the entire Labour movement to get its collective head out of the sand: "We can't muddle on to a massive defeat at the next general election. All this whispering behind the scenes must stop." He's absolutely right.
But can Labour do it? Can Labour's MPs and MSPs talk in public about their current nightmare? Is the habit of smoke- or bottled-water-filled rooms so ingrained that no prominent Labour politician can face the public and communicate openly and honestly about the worst weekend of their lives?
There's nothing wrong with admitting you've made mistakes, or even lost your way when things have gone this badly awry. The only thing people never respect is denial and cover-up.
It's time for Labour members, MSPs and activists to get over the habits of a passion-free decade and start "washing dirty linen" in public again.
I can feel every veteran Labour lip curling at such apparent naïvety.
Thanks to its tendency to publicly air every disagreement and policy clash, Labour believes it became unelectable through the long barren years of Thatcher. Even Neil Kinnock's clampdown on dissent, expelling Militant, proved insufficient. All it took was one overconfident pre-election party in 1992 – when Labour dropped its guard and let a hostile media glimpse premature celebrations – and victory was snatched away for a further five years.
How much plain talking actually contributed to Labour's long years in the wilderness can be disputed. But the effect is clear. People punished for expressing themselves become withdrawn. So do political parties. And Labour is withdrawn.
If there is no-one more anti-smoking than a reformed smoker, there is no party more sceptical of "open debate" than one that has quit the habit.
But with meltdown comes the possibility of release from obsolete behaviour. It's time for Labour to talk passionately, urgently and with commitment to anyone who will listen.
This is different from saying it's just the message that needs to be refined. It's quite the opposite. The overweening preoccupation with "delivering a message" needs to be forgotten and a collective primal scream of sheer agony should be released by people who have devoted their entire adult lives to a cause that's sinking fast.
How hard would it have been for Gordon Brown, when asked for his Glasgow East reaction, to say: "I'm gutted. Absolutely gutted. It will take time to accept this rejection and figure out how to respond. I'm hurt, but I truly understand people want more from their Prime Minister and their government. Give me a couple of weeks, and I'll have something to say."
The fact this is unimaginable speaks volumes about the unbearably false and formal relationship between the government and the governed.
Instead, the Prime Minister declared: "My full focus is on taking people through these difficult times." This response is so divorced from the pain and force of the blow delivered as to be mildly autistic.
The electorate is trying to kick Gordon Brown into life – to hurt him for failing to deliver the future, the hope, the speeches or the economy they expected. The longer he shows no pain, the harder they will kick. But the master of control can't show pain.
On Boris Johnson's win in London: "My main job is to improve our public services, to get the economy moving forward… and I am going to do that."
The Henley by-election: "By-elections come and by-elections go."
The Crewe and Nantwich by-election: "I'm here to do a job and I'll leave when I finish the job."
And defeat in Glasgow East: "Not only do we have the right policies, but when the time comes, we will be able to persuade the British people".
If Gordon Brown fails to register that he is wounded, voter assaults will escalate and finally cease, as a movement that has defined the past century becomes completely irrelevant.
How hard would it have been for any of Labour's leaders to tell the truth?
Ordinary people under attack act defensively, clam up and pretend everything's fine. Savvy political operators who want to run the country are meant to know better than ordinary people. In fact, very intelligent men often do far worse. High IQ, non-existent EQ.
If genuine communication is impossible at this pivotal moment, how about a political realignment that would haul New Labour back towards Old Labour and its core vote – with only another three words: "Cancel Trident's replacement."
Such a policy shift would be shocking, unexpected, decisive and risky. It would frighten the horses in Middle England, upset some Nato partners and lose British submarine construction jobs.
On the other hand, most of the missile jobs will be American. Cancellation would remove an SNP recruiting platform, signal a dynamic change for Britain's economy away from the arms trade, free up £25 billion for more important things and end charges of hypocrisy as Britain preaches non-proliferation and renews its nuclear deterrent at the same time.
Above all, it would be a fanfare policy U-turn, demanding direct communication from this most indirect of prime ministers.
Impossible, right? Certain to divide the strange bedfellows New Labour has so carefully wooed for the past 11 years – and not guaranteed to save Gordon Brown's premiership or this Labour government anyway.
All the more reason to act.
Using his last days as leader, Gordon Brown could make a radical policy shift that would leave the next generation of Labour politicians with something they currently lack – a direction, a moral compass, and proof that 11 years in government and 57 years in life don't necessarily lead to stagnation. And proof that the Prime Minister hasn't become the risk-averse bureaucrat the young Gordon Brown entered politics to oppose.
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